


Crumbling Walls

by violasarecool



Series: What Can 8 Grey Wardens Do? [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Circle Tower, Dragon Age Quest: Broken Circle, Gen, Mage Origin, Past minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a bit of Quentin's backstory in the Circle Tower, culminating in the Broken Circle quest and its aftermath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crumbling Walls

It was late afternoon, and the apprentices had finished their lessons for the day, leaving the library blissfully quiet. Wynne ran a hand across a row of books, dust trailing off the spines. She wiped her hand on her robes. Sadly, it was easy to tell which sections of the library were not assigned as mandatory reading. But not everyone read quite as voraciously as Quentin or Petra.

She selected a few tomes from the shelf―"Decoding Ancient Dwarven Dialects", and a cracked leather-bound book about Elven mythology whose title had long worn away―before heading back through the library to her study.

"Wynne," called a voice, and she turned and saw a boy jog towards her, his overly large apprentice robes flapping around his arms.

"Nicholas," Wynne said, smiling. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you found out about that freezing glyph, yet?" he asked.

"Ah, no, I haven't had time to look into it as of yet," she said.

"Oh." He looked crest-fallen.

"I have some free time this afternoon, I'll see if I can find you some more information before dinner, how's that?"

"That'd be so great, thank you," he said, beaming.

"Just promise me you won't try to use it until your lesson with Torrin tomorrow," she added, giving him her sternest look.

"Yes, Wynne, thank you, Wynne," he babbled.

She smiled. "Enjoy your afternoon."

She walked the rest of the way uninterrupted. When she reached the door to her study, it was slightly ajar, and she could hear conversation within. She pushed the door open.

"Have you started on ice bolts yet?" the girl leaning against the desk asked, tucking her dark curls behind her pointed ears. "I made a _really_ big one yesterday."

The other shook her head. "No, we've been spending more time on healing magic." She looked up as Wynne closed the door behind her. "Good afternoon, Wynne."

"Hello, Petra," she replied, "studying hard?"

"Well..." She gave the other girl, Neri, a guilty glance.

"I'll go," Neri said, standing upright.

"No, it's quite alright," Wynne said, "Petra has spent enough time on work for today. Besides," she said, turning to Petra, "I have a book for you, I believe you may find it useful." She handed Petra the book on Dwarven dialects.

"Ooh!" Petra flipped it open, and glanced over the first page. "This is exactly what I was looking for, thank you! Maybe now I can finally figure out the runes in that Arcane Magic book."

"You're very welcome," Wynne said. She glanced around the room. "I also have something Quentin was having trouble finding, is he around?"

Quentin stuck his head from behind a plump chair. "Yes?"

Wynne laughed. "Quentin, what are you doing on the floor?"

"It's comfy." He stood up, a thin book dangling from his hand.

She shook her head. "Here," she said, holding out the other book. "This is where the story about the Elven archer came from."

"Thanks, Wynne." He stacked the book on the one he was just reading. "Hey, Neri, have you heard that one?"

Neri shook her head. "Is it actually _interesting?"_

"They're all interesting," Quentin protested. Wynne chuckled, pulling out a chair to sit down at her desk.

"Stories about adventures and fighting are interesting," Neri said. "The story about the Tevinter priest? Not interesting."

"I liked that one," Petra said.

"You would," Neri said, scrunching up her nose. "You heard Wynne, leave the books for a bit." Quentin slowly edged back around the chair, and Neri shot him a pointed look. "That means you too, don't make me come over there."

"But I just got this one," Quentin said, waving the mythology book.

"Quentin," Neri said, reaching over to tug him back by his sleeve, "boy, work with me here."

"Nooooo," he protested, but let himself be dragged over to sit on a chair beside Neri and Petra.

Wynne looked up from the papers she was sorting through. "Are you bullying my students, young lady?" she asked with a smile.

"No, ma'am," Neri said.

"Yes," Quentin said, huffing at the long strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

Neri punched him in the arm playfully, and he grinned.

There was a knock at the door, and Wynne turned in her chair. "Come in," she called.

The door opened to reveal Irving standing just outside. "Goodness," he said, taking in the three apprentices, "am I interrupting?"

"No, not at all," Wynne said, "they simply had some free time to spend."

"Did they now," Irving said, looking at Quentin, eyebrows raised.

Quentin tugged on his ear with one hand. "I finished my reading, ser."

"Quentin, I was only jok―" He paused, looking at Quentin more closely. "All of it?"

"Yes?" Quentin said uncertainly.

"Good gracious, child, I didn't expect you to finish for a few days yet!"

"He is a quick study, and an avid reader," Wynne said, "though I believe his friends would appreciate it if he did something else, occasionally." She smiled at Neri.

"They weren't very difficult," Quentin said.

Irving glanced at Wynne, then back at Quentin. "Forgive me, I didn't realize. I've been rather caught up in correspondence recently, perhaps I have been somewhat... remiss, in your studies." He stroked his beard, frowning. "Let me revise what we had planned for tomorrow morning. It might be a bit rough, but we can skip some of the more basic theory and then see how far we get, how does that sound?"

"Okay," Quentin said with a shy smile.

"That's settled then." He turned to go, then stopped, and turned back. "I came in here for a reason unrelated to my apprentice," he said to Wynne. "What was that?"

Neri giggled.

"Is it the new dormitory assignments for our prospective mages?" Wynne said.

"Ah!" Irving pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket. "Yes, sorry for the wait, I've been―"

"Busy," Wynne smiled, "so I gathered. Next time, have Torrin give them to me directly. You don't need to oversee every last detail."

"Hm. You say that, but some of these details keep being overlooked."

"Like Quentin's reading level?" Wynne asked innocently.

_Oooh,_ Neri mouthed at Quentin.

Irving opened his mouth, then closed it. He sighed. "Point taken. I'll see if I can't better delegate some of this."

"Glad to hear it."

Irving gave her a reluctant smile. "You do revel in my discomfort, don't you."

She crossed her arms. "Mm, on occasion, perhaps."

"I'll leave you to your small party of apprentices," Irving said, opening the door. "Good day, Wynne."

"Good day, Irving."

"...like she's his _mother,_ " Neri whispered as the door closed.

"I heard that, young lady," Wynne said.

"Oops."

"And, really," Wynne said, turning to Neri, "just how old do you think I am?"

"Uh..." Neri looked at Petra, who shook her head frantically.

Wynne sighed. "Don't answer that, I don't even want to know."

* * *

"Are you alright?" Irving stood over Quentin, holding out a hand. Quentin blinked, the memory of what had just happened filtering slowly through his stunned mind. Jowan pulling out a knife, a cloud of blood... Quentin took Irving's offered hand hesitantly, let himself be pulled to his feet. "Greagoir?" Irving said, looking around.

A few feet away, Greagoir stirred with a groan; around him, the Templars were just stirring, and Duncan climbed to his feet. "I knew it..." Greagoir muttered, standing, "blood magic. But to overcome so many... I never thought him capable of such power."

"He said he wasn't a blood mage," Quentin said, looking at Irving desperately.

"None of us expected this," Irving said, his tone grave. "Are you all right, Greagoir?"

"As good as can be expected given the circumstances. If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! And you―" He turned to Quentin. "Your antics have made a mockery of this Circle!"

"He was under my orders, Greagoir," Irving said.

"What?" Quentin and Greagoir said at the same time.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Greagoir demanded.

Irving folded his arms. "I had my reasons."

Quentin stared at Irving, willing the other man to look at him. Was Irving... _covering_ for him?

Irving continued to stare Greagoir down, stoic in the face of Greagoir's protests. "You're not _all-knowing,_ Irving, you had no idea what would happen! And now that he's escaped―"

"He won't get far," Irving said. Quentin shuddered.

"Hmph. Thanks to my Templars." Greagoir glared at Quentin. "Nonetheless, the phylactery chamber is forbidden to all save you and me. And who _knows_ how much influence the blood mage might have had! I must insist upon an investigation into this, and this _mage_ will be detained until its completion."

"You may certainly investigate the issue," Irving said, "but leave the boy out of it."

"If I may," Duncan said, as Greagoir sputtered, "I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens."

Greagoir's head whipped around to stare at Irving. "What? You've promised him a new Grey Warden?"

Irving ignored him. "Are you proposing to recruit Quentin?"

"Yes," Duncan said. "He has shown considerable promise."

"Absolutely not," Greagoir spat, "I will not release him until this matter is settled."

"I believe it is not your choice," Irving said mildly. "Besides, he has served the Circle well. He would make an excellent Grey Warden."

Quentin swallowed. "If the Grey Wardens will take me, I... I'd be happy to," he stammered.

Duncan nodded, satisfied. "Then I will take him under my wing, and bear responsibility for his actions."

_Even those you don't know about?_ Quentin glanced at Irving, then froze as their gazes met.

"You have an opportunity few even dream of. Do not squander it," Irving said.

"Yes, ser," Quentin murmured, looking at his feet.

"Be proud, child," Irving added, and Quentin glanced back up to see him smiling. "You've served the Circle well. You will do well with the Wardens, I think."

_He's not angry,_ Quentin realized, relief flooding through him. "Thank you," Quentin said with a smile that felt wider than his face. "Thank you for everything, First Enchanter."

* * *

Not weeks later, he was back in the tower, soon to be a prisoner once more, though under much more dire circumstances. Quentin felt Greagoir's eyes still on him as the large double doors to the tower shut with an echoing boom, sealing them inside. _If Irving has fallen, then the Circle is lost,_ Greagoir had said.

"He can't have," Quentin murmured.

"Hm?" Leliana glanced at him. Then, she looked down. "Oh, Maker."

Blood spattered the floor, streaking back to the body of a Templar. Further down the hall, more Templars, and the body of a mage lying in the doorway to one of the apprentice dormitories.

"They do not mess around, your abominations," Zevran commented, nudging the remains of the Templar's legs with his foot. Leliana frowned at him. "What?" he said, and Leliana rolled her eyes before moving on, forcing Zevran to hurry after them.

Ahead, Quentin stepped into the closer dormitory. Apprentices and older mages lay scattered around the room, some of the bodies charred as if by a small explosion.

"Demons," Alistair said, letting his hand trail over a scorch mark on the stone wall. Morrigan made a scoffing noise.

Quentin knelt by the body of a mage, reached out as if to touch her shoulder, then drew back. "Rose," he choked out. His gaze fell on the man beside her, robes crumpled under lifeless limbs. "And Nicholas." He looked at Alistair, chest aching. "There's so many."

"We should keep going," Alistair said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah."

They walked further down the hall; Quentin kept his head forward as they passed the second dormitory. As they reached the door at the end of the hall, Quentin raised his free hand, then, staff at the ready, pushed it open.

Inside, a figure stood in front of a small group; behind them, a blue seal crackled in the tall archway. "Stop where you are, or I―Quentin?"

He stared at her: Grey hair tied back from an oh so familiar face―"Wynne," Quentin breathed, "you're alive!"

"Yes, and you―"

"Creators!" Wynne was cut off as a smaller figure pushed past her, running toward Quentin to throw her arms around him. _Neri._

"Hey," Quentin said, hugging her back.

"We thought you were _dead_ ," Neri sniffed, her eyes wet as she let go. "They said all the Grey Wardens died at Ostagar."

"Not quite all," Quentin said, looking at Wynne.

"It's good to see you," Wynne said with a fond look.

Quentin glanced around the small group. He spotted Petra, a small girl latched onto one arm. Petra smiled at him. "Hey. I'm glad you're not dead," she said.

"I'm glad _you're_ not dead," Quentin said. He looked back at Wynne. "What happened here?"

"Uthar," Wynne said grimly. "It seems he has been gathering blood mages for some time. When they struck, we were somewhat unprepared." She sighed. "So many have died."

Quentin glanced behind her at the shimmering seal in the doorway. "So you sealed off the rest of the tower?"

"Yes. I had to protect the children," Wynne said, gesturing at the young humans and elves huddled around them. "But now that you're here..." she glanced around at Quentin's party. "How did you get in? I thought Greagoir had sealed off the tower."

"He has," Quentin said, frowning. "They've invoked the right of annulment."

"Ah. I thought as much. Then why did he let you in?"

"I convinced him to let us try to reach you, to try and save whoever's left alive. He wasn't pleased, though, and he won't take anyone's word but Irving's that the tower is safe."

Wynne nodded. "Then we must find Irving." She turned to Petra. "I'm going to need you and Neri to stay with the children."

"What? No!" Neri protested.

"We can help," Petra said.

"I can't keep the barrier up _and_ go with Quentin," Wynne said. "We can try to kill all the abominations we come across, but if we miss even one, it will fall to you to protect the children. Do you understand?"

Neri sighed. "Alright."

"Ok," Petra said.

Wynne turned to the barrier, raising her arms. The air crackled with energy, then the seal shimmered, and disappeared.

"Be careful," Petra said to Quentin.

"You too," he said.

"And... look after Wynne," she added. "Something happened, in there. I'm worried about her."

He nodded. "I'll do whatever I can."

As they left, Quentin saw Neri take Petra's free hand. "What if they don't make it back?" Neri whispered.

"Hey, no," Petra murmured, squeezing her hand gently. "They'll make it back, don't you worry."

* * *

Quentin took the watch the night they left the Circle, having put some distance between them and the tower. Wynne joined him soon after, and they sat together in silence for a while, the crackling fire illuminating only a small patch in the darkness.

"Do you think... this wouldn't have happened? If Jowan hadn't escaped?" Quentin asked.

"Oh no," Wynne said, "Jowan was only a symptom of a much larger problem. Even Uldred only played a part in it, though he certainly got many good mages killed. As much as I distrust blood mages, that was far from the heart of the matter today." She shook her head. "I've been alive long enough to know from experience that where there is power, there are always those willing to do whatever it takes to seize it."

"That's awful," Quentin said flatly. "How could anyone kill _so many_ people, just... just for..." He looked down, eyes burning with tears. "So many people died. And the abominations..." He trailed off into silence.

"We will see many more innocent lives lost before the Blight is defeated," Wynne said. "If you focus on the deaths, you will drown in them." She pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from her bag and handed it to Quentin. "It's better to focus on all the lives that were saved. If it weren't for your help, the Circle may have fallen completely."

Quentin wiped at his eyes. "Right." He crumpled the fabric in his fist without thinking, then opened his hand, looking at Wynne. "Uh, do you...?"

"Keep it," Wynne said, "I have more."

"Ok... Thank you."

"It is no problem."

Wynne closed her bag, then crossed her legs, resting her chin in her hand as she stared at the fire. "You know, I was to have another apprentice after Petra completed her Joining."

"Oh?" Quentin glanced at her.

"Yes, a young boy from a small village not far from here. I'll never know why I decided not to take him. Perhaps I was just tired, after so many years―I haven't been without an apprentice for as long as I can remember. Perhaps I knew, somehow, that I was fated to travel with you across Ferelden, despite my aching bones," she said with a smile.

"You could have stayed," Quentin said with some concern. "Irving would have loved to have you there to help rebuild."

"Oh, make no mistake, my reasons for coming with you were not entirely selfless. After so long cooped up in that tower, I'm beginning to understand why so many mages attempt to escape!" Quentin gave her an uncertain look, and she laughed. "I could have done some good by staying, yes; that is why I spent so long teaching there. But I can also do good by coming with you, to help you defeat the Blight. I'm not a doddering old woman yet, I still have plenty of fight left in me."

"I never said you didn't," Quentin protested.

"Hmm." Wynne gave him an amused look.

Quentin glanced down. "Ok, but... Petra said... something happened. In the tower. Are you alright?"

"Ah... There was, I admit, a moment when I thought it was all over. A demon attacked Petra, and while I managed to protect her, I took quite a hit." Her hand strayed, almost unconsciously, to her chest. "But evidently the Maker decided I was still needed for a time, so here I am," she added. Quentin stared at her for a moment, brow creased, and Wynne smiled at him. "Come, now, let us not fret about the past. What's important is that we are here together now, ready to fight another day."

"Yeah." Quentin smiled back. "I'm glad you're here."


End file.
